30 Days of Caryl
by lovesdaryl
Summary: These are short ones in answer to Rhinozilla's 30 Days of Caryl challenge on tumblr. As far as possible, they will fall into place with my other stories, but I will try to keep them readable as standalones. Rating just to be on the safe side as I don't know yet what - apart from some Dixon mouth - I will come up with in the later ones yet to come.
1. First Laugh - Daryl hears Carol

They'd been out on the road for five days, and it had been a rough five days. At night, they'd had to look for shelter, during the day they'd foraged for food. When the farm had been overrun they'd been forced to flee with next to nothing as most of their supplies had been stored in the RV which had been lost when the barn had caught fire and had set Dales beloved Winnebago on fire in turn.

Not only had they lacked food and shelter, they'd also been missing the most basic comforts, which was especially regrettable since they'd enjoyed them so much at Hershel's farm - running water, cold and warm, a stove to cook on, a shower and bathtub, a toilet … The list went on.

It was harder on the Greenes than on the remaining members of the original Atlanta group. They, after all, had already endured such conditions at the quarry outside the city where Rick had found them. While they were by no means used to them, they at least weren't completely new, either. The Greenes, however, were having a hard time adapting as the conditions on the road proved to be quite hard on them after the comfort of their own home.

They were taking a break in the early afternoon of their fifth day out because Daryl had spotted a small stream winding along the valley they were driving through. They'd built a fire, filled all their pots and were boiling water now to take along in their five gallon containers that they'd scavenged from a delivery truck the day Sophia had run into the woods. Apart from that, they were basically taking a break and enjoying the sun.

Carol, however, had decided to make even better use of this unexpected free time. She had grabbed a towel, a bar of soap and her second set of clean clothes and was making her way along the stream to find a secluded spot away from the others. Her eyes were on the ground, looking out for snakes in the underbrush. She had no wish to pay for her wish to be clean and rid herself of her body odor by getting bitten by a rattlesnake.

When the underbush to her right, toward the stream, got thinner she slowed down to find a suitable spot along the water's edge - when, all of a sudden, she heard strange, rustling noises ahead of her and toward the stream. Trying to remember everything that Daryl had told her about being stealthy during the past few days, she crept toward the sounds, doing her best to move as quietly as he did out in the open, with no creaking floorboards to give him away.

Pushing aside the leafy boughs of a bush that was taller than herself, she stared at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Daryl Dixon was standing at the water's edge, his feet tangled in his shoelaces, the strap of his quiver and his poncho, desperately holding his crossbow aloft to keep it from getting coated in mud while he tried in vain to free himself of his restraints. Apparently, he'd had the same bright idea as herself, but was failing miserably at executing it.

She couldn't help herself, there was no way to contain it. For the first time in what felt like years, she laughed out loud.

Daryl's head shot up, blushing a deep crimson that started at his neck and made its way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't believe she had crept up on him without him noticing, and had witnessed this graceless scene to boot. But … Her laugh was adorable.

With a pang of regret he realized that he hadn't heard her laugh until just now. He guessed that at first she'd had no reason to laugh because her husband had still been around who, from what he'd seen, had done his best to drain her life of every little bit of pleasure, and once he'd been gone, they'd lost Sophia.

So what if she was laughing about him? She looked so beautiful, and her laughter sounded so happy and carefree that he would have danced about tied up like this for the rest of his life just to make her laugh.


	2. Naked - Carol sees Daryl

It was the first time they'd found a house to stay in since they'd been run off the farm, and it came with a working gas stove to heat their canned food on, and a fireplace and a basket of dry firewood and kindling in the living room that they intended to make good use of that night. They'd been miserable in the cold outside during the past ten nights on the road, for even though the days had been warm enough, the heat they'd soaked up while the sun was out had never been enough to tide them over the nights.

She was keeping a guilty secret, though.

Before heating the maccaroni and cheese and setting everyone up in the living room with food and some musty blankets that she'd found in the basement, she'd made her way upstairs to explore the second floor and had discovered that the water in the shower was still running. She had decided right away not to tell anyone about this but had made sure that they'd all stay in the living room for a while before returning upstairs.

She found the master bedroom with its walk-in closet and was delighted to come across a stack of the fluffiest bathtowels that she'd ever seen in her life, let alone touched or used. She grabbed two of them and made her way back out into the master bedroom and from there into the hallway.

It was at this point that she heard the sound of running water, and disappointment seemed to fill every cell in her body. Someone had followed her, discovered the working shower, and decided to use it at once. Well, it would be better to be the second person to use the shower than not use it at all, she reckoned. But she at least wanted to know who had beaten her to it.

The door wasn't closed all the way, probably because the person using it was hoping, as she had, that everyone would be staying downstairs for food and warmth instead of exploring the upper story of the house. She slowed down as she walked past the door, hoping the angle would be right so she could sneak a peek.

The shower stall was made up of clear glass walls so she was treated to an unobstructed view.

Her breath caught in her throat.

His legs were muscular and somehow looked as if he had taken root in the ground even though he was moving about as he lathered himself up with shower gel or soap or whatever it was he'd found to clean himself and get the stink of sweat and dirt and blood and walker guts off himself. They were also surprisingly white in contrast to his face and arms because he always wore long pants.

His equally white butt was nicely shaped and had amazing cute dimples on the sides. If she looked at it long enough she guessed she'd see wiry muscles there as well because they were all losing weight and he was constantly on the move, but her eyes were drawn onward.

Just now, he was lowering his head and raising his hands from his sides, looking to his left, and she felt her insides clenching with worry and sorrow. He was removing the dressings from the entry and exit wounds left by his own bolt two weeks ago, inspecting the round scars and picking off what remained of the sutures.

His right hand went to his ribs and a strangled sound escaped him as if he were holding in any expression of pain even when he believed himself alone. Her eyes roamed across his shoulders and back, taking in the fading bruises from the two falls he had taken that day, and it struck her again how close he'd come to dying in that accident. How very close she had come to losing him.

He gently and carefully washed his left side, then, less carefully, the rest of himself and, finally, his hair. As he rinsed the lather off, she got another long look at his back, and suddenly it seemed as if there wasn't enough air for her to breathe. They were gnarled like tree roots, raised, discolored, some of them short, some long, and obviously deep. They crisscrossed in some places. They bore horrifying testimony to his childhood.

Putting his head back, allowing the water to hit his face, he started to turn around. Mortified, she became aware of the fact that she was secretly spying on the man who meant more to her than anyone else in the world and that if she stayed to watch beyond this point, she would lose whatever right she might still have to his respect and affection after what she had already done here.

But just as she was about to pull back and make her way to the stairs and to the first floor again, his voice penetrated the thrum of water on porcelain. "'s okay", he told her matter of factly as she blushed her deepest crimson, "'ve known you were there since ya dropped the towels."

She had been so enraptured, watching his sculpted body move slowly in the shower, that the dropped towels had completely escaped her notice. She was embarrassed enough at this point that it seemed her mind was considering an out of body experience by now. She was feeling lightheaded. No way would she be able to answer him.

She surprised herself by picking up the towels she had indeed dropped next to her feet and pushing the door open just a little bit. He was glistening with water, and his eyes met hers ever so briefly as he squinted over his shoulder before looking down at his feet again. His hand came up and he started gnawing on the ragged cuticle of his thumb even as he turned off the shower with his left hand.

"You'll need these", she said softly, placing the towels next to his heap of dirty, sweaty clothes on the floor. "I'll go look for a fresh shirt for you to wear. And, Daryl?" She paused for a moment. She needed to say this, but knew that it was really too little, too late, in view of what she'd done. "I'm so sorry for spying on you, that was wrong and I shouldn't have done that." Her face was flaming with shame.

For an eternity she thought that by standing there, hidden behind that door and looking at what he was hiding away from the world, she had lost his trust forever and he wouldn't answer her. Worse, she felt that was what she deserved. But then his gruff voice came back, soft and gentle. "'s okay. I'm good with you … seein'."

Even though he turned his face away at once, blushing, she was sure that he saw her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

Quickly, she retreated to find a shirt for him in that walk-in closet. She made sure to firmly close the door behind her.


	3. Naked - Daryl sees Carol

They had found tents again two days ago, in an outdoor supplies store that had proved to be a veritable cornucopia for them – sleeping bags, cooking gear - including gas for the stoves, warm clothing - which they were certainly going to need as it kept getting colder, self-inflating airbeds. Fall had been just around the corner when the herd had ended their stay at Hershel's farm, and by now the leaves were turning and falling, and staying out in the open without shelter would have been out of the question.

Finding new gear had made them so much more flexible. If they found a safe play to stay the night, they took it. If they didn't, they set up a camp instead. Putting up the small one-person tent he'd chosen for himself always reminded him of how he'd set up their old one with Merle in the quarry, back before Rick had handcuffed him in Atlanta. And that in turn always had him wondering if Merle had made it out in the end, if he'd survived and was out there somewhere, safe.

If he'd ever see him again.

With a grunt, he pulled the last line taut and anchored it in the hard, stony soil before wiping his hands on his dirty pants and rising from his crouch. He looked around to check if anyone needed help setting up their stuff.

Rick had the Grimes tent covered with Carl's help. Lori was sitting in their car, looking queasy, with a hand covering her mouth. Even Daryl, who certainly wasn't one for staring at people, had noticed that she was losing instead of gaining weight big time. She seemed to be constantly sick and was eating like a bird. Not keeping down most of what she was eating didn't help matters. Nor did Rick's increasing coldness toward her. But these weren't issues that were any of his business, nor could he have done anything about them.

Hershel and Glenn were setting up a large tent for the Greene family, with the girls pitching in where they could – and where the men let them. The old man seemed to be of the opinion that this wasn't girls' work and answered nearly every offer of help that came from his daughters with a staunch "no". Apparently, allowing them to help would shame him in some way, so he insisted on doing it with only Glenn lending a hand.

Daryl wandered over to where T-Dog was busy with the finishing touches to the medium-sized tent for Glenn and himself. When T looked up at him and gave him an inviting smile, he gave one curt nod and set to work. Together, they had it finished in no time, and T looked very pleased with himself as he put up the camping stove and installed the gas canister. "Thanks for your help, man. With Glenn helping the Doc, it would've taken me that much longer to put it up on my own."

"'s nothin'", Daryl mumbled, instantly uncomfortable at being thanked. At the same time he noticed that he'd neglected to look out for the person he owed most to, apart from Hershel. After all, she always looked out for him – making sure he ate, prodding him to rest, taking care of what little clothing he had left. He looked around and spotted a small tent, the same size as his own, way out behind the large Grimes affair that Rick and Carl were still sweating over. Slowly, trying to look inconspicuous, he sauntered over and looked about himself.

The lines weren't taut as they had to be for the tent to stand up to the fierce gusts of wind that had started springing up over the past few days, announcing the onset of fall. The tent itself also looked a bit saggy. All in all, the thing all but screamed "I've been set up by one person on their own when it really takes two to do this properly".

Angry with himself – Hadn't she been riding behind him? Why hadn't he made sure her tent was set up properly first, before doing his own? – he looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Nor, he realized, was her small pack of clothes or her tote bag the contents of which he couldn't even begin to guess. Squinting into the gathering dusk, he turned around to face Rick who was busy pulling on one of the lines of his tent. "Ya seen Carol?"

Surprised at being addressed so abruptly, Rick looked up and slowly shook his head, trying to remember. "I think I saw her go into her tent after she'd set it up. Maybe she's taking in her stuff?" he suggested.

Daryl grunted his thanks and stepped up closer to Carol's tent. Clearing his throat so she'd be alerted to his presence and he wouldn't scare her shitless, he pulled down the zipper at the entrance and stuck his head into the tent.

They both froze in midmotion, she with her hands reaching out for a clean shirt while crouching on the inflated airbed, with not a single stitch of clothing on her body, him with his head sticking inside the tent like a disembodied ghost that was coming to haunt her. Neither of them moved for the longest time.

Carol saw a blush creeping up from his neck and up over his cheeks and all the way to his ears, and she was quite certain that she didn't look much different – well, apart from the obvious.

Daryl could feel his neck, face, ears heating up, but he was utterly unable to react to what was happening here. She looked so beautiful and delicate in the failing light, so frail and fragile, so … vulnerable. Like everone else, she had been losing weight, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her and protect her against all the evils of the world, and make sure she had clothes to keep her warm and food to keep her sated.

He had no name for the emotions that overwhelmed him at seeing her like this. Never in his life had he experienced anything even remotely like it, and he had no idea how to handle it. Sure, he'd seen naked women, his dad and Merle had taken care of that, but all of that, including the women he'd been with for one-night stands that Merle had forced him into, had been utterly meaningless compared to … this.

After what felt like a lifetime, his brain stuttered to life again, and he cleared his throat once more and managed to speak – sort of. "Your tent … your lines … wanted to … Jus' lemme know when I can …" Hell, he was so pathetic. She was still staring at him with those wide, blue doe's eyes, not even attempting to cover herself, and here he was, still taking in the sight in front of him like a damn creep.

He felt his insides tighten when he saw the marks on her body, similar to his own, and if Ed had been here right now he would have beaten him to a pulp with his bare hands for touching, marking, hurting her like that, for making her feel worthless and disgusting like that, for instilling terror and fear in her like that. He knew exactly – God, how well he knew! – what she had felt like, and it was killing him. What was worse, he knew that he couldn't help her. She would need someone to pick her up, instead of pull her down further, the way he surely would.

He was nothing.

She was … perfect.

Lowering his eyes to the ground, he mumbled something about waiting outside until she was done and was about to withdraw, again like a ghost, when he heard her whisper his name. "Daryl, it's so kind of you to help me. I'll be right there."

As always, her voice soothed his nerves the way nobody else could. Taking a deep breath past the huge lump in his throat, he managed to lift is head and raise his eyes. She was looking at him, SMILING at him, and his hammering heart was close to exploding when he realized that she wasn't angry with him for bursting in on her like this. He found it incredibly hard to read other peoples' expressions, but hers right now seemed to tell him that it was okay, that she was okay with him seeing her like this, and that she trusted him with what he'd seen. That she knew he would keep it safe.

Keep her safe.

Nodding quickly, he withdrew from her tent and waited for her to join him.


	4. If Axel had lived

His eyes found her, coming up from behind her cover, all across the prison yard, his look intense as he stared at her through the fences between them. He was still standing outside, with Rick and, incredibly, his brother Merle. When he was certain that she was looking at him - and how could she not be? - he gave her that small, restrained nod, reserved just for her, telling her he was okay across that huge distance and without a single word, even as he was reassuring himself that she, too, was unhurt.

She managed to draw in a shuddering breath. When Rick had told her that he had left with Merle, without giving her any background information, she had felt as if the ground was giving way beneath her feet. He had been her anchor, her lifeline, the only one she could rely on to keep her safe and put her first, before anyone else, and she had believed him lost forever.

Now there he stood, his face bruised and battered, with blood sheeting down from a cut high on his right cheek, and when they started walking up to the inner gate she could see from the way he held his bow and himself and from the way he was walking that he was in pain. When Merle said something to him and jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow, he flinched, his face contorting for just a moment, which betrayed the fact that this wasn't his usual don't-dare-to-touch-me-or-I-might-kick-your-ass-into-next-week flinch.

He might have given her his nod, but it was all too obvious that he was definitely not okay. Something had happened to him in Woodbury.

She was so focused on him walking up that she completely missed Axel coming up from behind her until he was practically on top of her. "Ya hurt?" he asked solicitously, looking her over.

For just a moment she did not even understand what he was referring to. The walkers milling in the yard again, the broken down gates, the bullet holes testifying to the vicious attack that had just been carried out against them - none of it had registered any longer once she had caught sight of him. She gazed at Axel in confusion.

He was kind, she had to hand him that. He might become a good friend in time, if they both lived. She might have played along with him flirting and teasing, but it would not have been the same. Much as she regretted hurting him - and she knew that she was hurting him -, her only answer to his concerned question was a distracted nod before she looked back at the three men coming toward them.

They were within hearing distance now, and she could hear him snapping at Merle who was talking about "bleedin' heart Darleena" saving a Mexican family on some bridge "outta the fuckin' goodness of 'is heart" which earned him a scornful laugh from his older brother. Rick, who had never seen them together before, looked from one to the other in irritation, probably wondering whether they'd come to blows right there.

She watched his free hand, the one not holding his crossbow, brushing over his ribs, and the skin around his eyes tightened for just an instant. Her insides clenched with worry. For him to allow it to show on his face, however briefly, it had to be bad, and she resolved to not let him get away with his "'m fine, I got this, gonna take care of it m'self" routine. Even Merle, she saw, was casting a concerned look at him, but Daryl brushed him off.

Now he looked up again, reaching out for the gate with his free hand, wincing once more, and then he noticed Axel hovering behind her. His face darkened instantly, but the next second his head was down again as he pushed through the gate without looking where he was going. Not wanting to see her standing there with another man. One who had been here with her while he himself had been gone.

Only now did she realize that Axel had apparently been talking to her the entire time - nothing that he'd said had registered with her, however fleetingly. The memory of his voice was just a droning background sound, like the white noise between radio stations. She looked up at him, bewildered, and saw the hurt in his eyes that she had known would be there.

And just as Daryl was passing them, his head turned ever so slightly to pick up what they were saying, Axel asked her: "So, this the one you're savin' yourself for? The one with the crossbow?"

And even though she would have welcomed the Earth opening to swallow her at that moment, it still made her giddy with happiness to see the familiar blush creeping up all the way to his ears, and the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly in that characteristic Daryl non-smile.

They were good.


	5. Rosemary McLeod

As always, she was busy. This time, she was preparing the ingredients for their dinner at the outdoor dining area, enjoying the last warm rays of sunlight as the sun was sinking toward the treeline behind the prison. Daryl had been out hunting the day before and had brought back a small buck which he'd dressed for her immediately upon his return, so all she had to do now was cut it up into manageable pieces to produce several nice, large pieces of roast deer.

He had also been thoughtful enough to collect some greens on his way back to go along with the meat, claiming that they were wild onions when handing them to her, and she had no choice but to take his word for it. One of the Woodbury women who had joined them after the sacking of that town, arthritic old Mrs Rosemary McLeod, was standing next to her now, chopping them up. Frail as she was, the old lady wanted to do what she could to contribute to their life here.

Deep in thought as she was, working on autopilot as she often did during her routine tasks, she looked up toward the watchtower where the front end of his crossbow was just peeking out over the tower railing. He and Michonne were taking a break from their multi-day Governor hunt runs, having been out twice already, so they could both pull their weight at the prison for a few days before going out again. He'd volunteered for the afternoon watch and retreated to the solitude of the tower, preferring it over the gates where he would have been keeping watch with at least three other people.

She hated that he kept going out on these runs, putting himself at risk like that, with only Michonne for backup. It wasn't that she didn't implicitly trust the woman to have his back during these runs. It was just that she felt it was unsafe for just two people to be out there on their own. She would have felt much better if it was a larger group going out – but the personalities of their Governor hunters prevented this from happening.

They were both loners who preferred spending time alone to spending it with people, and if possible they liked spending their alone time out in the open instead of the newly crowded prison. Those left in Woodbury after the Governor's devastating attack on the prison, those unfit to join the fight – the very old, the very young, the frail, the sick, as everybody else had been all but drafted into service on his army – had been brought back to the prison four weeks ago and everybody was still adapting to the new situation.

She didn't yet know the newcomers as well as she would have liked, but she did know the people welcoming them to their home, and of these, Daryl and Michonne would definitely have the hardest time getting used to things. Therefore, these runs looking for Blake definitely made sense in many more ways than one.

Carol was staring ahead sightlessly, her hands ever busy preparing the venison, when Glenn suddenly marched through her field of vision on his way to the watchtower. He called out a friendly greeting to the two women and Carol, startled out of her reverie, answered him with a smile and a greeting of her own, watching as he reached the door, pulled it open and disappeared inside the tower. Moments later, his disembodied head showed up at the top, soon to be joined by Daryl's as he made his way from the balcony into the tower and to the stairway.

Her face lit up when she realized that his watch was over and this would be one of the rare occastions when he would be able to have dinner with her. She went back to her task with renewed vigor, a spring in her step as she all but whirled around to reach for the salt. She was far too swept up in her happy cloud to notice the sudden silence as Mrs McLeod stopped chopping.

The door at the foot of the tower banged open and he exploded out, all nervous energy, crossbow slung over his shoulder, purposefully striding not quite toward her but close enough to pass right next to the barbecue area, and as her eyes were on him from the moment he stepped out of the tower, his eyes found hers for just a moment before cutting down to the ground again. One corner of his mouth lifted in an almost-smile as he blushed. At the same time, his left hand went to his rear pants pocket and then came back up again, yanking on the strap of his crossbow to adjust its position on his back.

As he passed the two of them, standing under the roof and following his progress from the tower to the cellblock, he mumbled what could have passed for a greeting without looking up again. Carol felt her heart thundering inside her, and the blood roaring in her ears was so loud it almost drowned out his voice. It was all she could do to mutter a greeting in return before he was out of earshot again.

She pulled herself back into reality with difficulty, only to be faced with a beaming Mrs McLeod. "What did I miss?" she asked, confused, as she couldn't make heads nor tails of the woman's apparent delight.

"Thought he was a bad boy at first, when they dragged him into the arena to fight his brother", Mrs McLeod began, still smiling at her. "It's what they told us, after all – that he'd attacked Woodbury with his friends to kill us all. But now –" The old woman's eyes wistfully followed Daryl, who had meanwhile reached the door to the cellblock and was yanking it open. "You've found yourself a good man there, missus. Make sure to hold on to him."

Carol stared at her, bewildered. "What? No! There's nothing …" Her voice trailed off. While they certainly weren't another Maggie and Glenn, there sure as hell wasn't "nothing" either. It just wasn't obvious, or clear-cut, and maybe he didn't even realize there was something there to begin with. Literally all of his previous relationships – with his mother, his father and his brother – had put him through hell, and he wouldn't want to add to that, so he closed himself off as best he could.

But there was something very sweet and beautiful about the way they were tiptoeing around each other, never fully out of reach, yet never really touching, either. For the time being, though, this would remain a secret between Mrs McLeod and herself.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd let Daryl in on it one day.

* * *

AN1:

YES, as this is after Merle's death he is already carrying the letter and is reaching for it here, but hasn't made up his mind yet on whether or not to hand it over.

AN2:

We'll be on vacation without internet access for the next two weeks, so no more updates before mid-September. I'm not abandoning this!


	6. Caryl moment with Judith

Wiping her hands on her pants, she stepped into the cool shadows of the prison cellblock, glad to be out of the sun for a moment. Her shift on the guard tower had been uneventful and she sincerely hoped that the run on which Daryl had left with Glenn and Michonne just before she had mounted the tower would turn out just as boring.

She swung by Rick and Carl's cell to check in on Beth and Judith on her way to her own cell. The blond girl was doing a great job helping Rick out with his daughter, and she didn't think that he gave her the credit she was due for this. Then again, he was still touch and go and couldn't really be held accountable yet for anything that he did or didn't do.

Judith seemed cranky when she reached Rick's cell and Beth looked bored out of her mind, so she offered to take the toddler off her hands so she could do something she wanted for a change. She had seen the girl write in some kind of journal when she had the time, and knew that she liked singing and drawing. In any case, there had to be things that an 18 year old girl liked better than having a six month old baby be sick on her shoulder.

Rocking the little girl on her arm, she sang to her softly, remembering when Sophia was this old, and as always tears welled in her eyes as she thought of her daughter. She went out into the main hallway and was on her way toward the entrance to their cellblock when she heard the rumble of the bike and the purring of the car's engine, and her heart sang with joy.

Even standing in here instead of outside, she knew that he was back safely because the bike was back, and neither Glenn nor Michonne knew how to ride it. Nor did the rumbling stop down at the gate, but it continued on up to the door she was facing, probably because she hadn't been waiting down at the gate and he wanted to make sure she was safely inside as quickly as possible. She heard the familiar squeal of the kickstand as he turned it down after killing the bike's engine and getting off, and then the door in front of her opened and he was there.

He didn't smile openly - he never did that. But the corner of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly, and his blue eyes lit up with joy as he saw her standing there with the baby in her arms, his two favorite people in the world. He was next to her in two long strides and she was overjoyed to see that he wasn't hurt at all but had returned just as he'd left.

His calloused hands came up and she saw that he was holding a small net with five little red plastic toy cups in it. Judith, who had been crowing with delight at the sight of him reached out for his face now, yanking on the scruff dusted across his cheeks and chin, and then grabbed the cups, watching anxiously as he ripped open the net to get them out for her.

Carol walked over to the play corner they had set up for the little girl and sat her down on the warm blanket. She giggled with joy and then made mewling sounds as she attempted to stack the cups. Carol sat down next to her and looked up at Daryl invitingly. He stood there, looking sheepish, and finally mumbled: "I can't do this. I'm not ... I don't even know what to do with her, beyond feedin' or changin'. Rick is good with that sorta stuff. He's her dad, he can do that."

"Sitting down to play with her isn't being a dad, Daryl. And you're not taking anything away from Rick by doing it. She loves you and will enjoy playing with you. I know you can do this, Daryl."

Hesitantly, he came closer and got down on his knees. Her heart ached for him when he tentatively reached out for one of the cups, very obviously without a clue as to what he could or should do with it. It was painfully clear that he had no idea just how much his inability to play with Judith, whom he loved so very much, gave away about his own childhood.

Careful not to be too obvious about it, she reached for another of the cups and set it on the ground bottom up, then took the one he was holding and slid it over her own. Judith crowed in delight and tried to imitate Carol with the cup she was still holding. Daryl blushed, realizing that Carol had seen so much more than just him sitting there holding his red cup, and moved to stand.

He froze when he felt her hand on his arm.

"It's not your fault, Daryl. How could what happened to you ever be your fault? You are so good with her, and she loves you so much." The pain in her eyes as he looked away mirrored that in his as she continued. "You're so much more to her than you ever got. You're doing great."

He turned his head then to look at Carol, but she kept looking at Judith, knowing that would make it easier for him. Slowly, reluctantly, he reached out for another cup and stacked it on top of the two already sitting between the three of them, with Judith closely watching his every move. When he let go of the cup, she picked it back up, painstakingly repeated what he had done and finally managed to slide it on top of the little cup tower with a yelp of delight.

Wordlessly, he got up, and this time Carol didn't try to stop him. Biting his lower lip he turned away, then hesitated and looked back at her over his shoulder. "Would you teach me?" he asked softly.

When she smiled up at him, his eyes shone with gratitude as he nodded at her before turning away for good this time to leave for his perch.


End file.
